Daniel DeMoss

I was standing in the bank the other day and I noticed something interesting.  I tend to notice weird things when I’m at the bank because the lines are always long and there’s nothing better to do while you wait.  At this particular branch of my bank in Ypsilanti, there is floor to ceiling bulletproof glass that separates all of the bank employees from, well… the rest of us.  It’s a rather odd situation if you think about it.  The glass makes a statement… that the bank believes that there is a risk.  Specifically it indicates that there is a risk of gun violence in the lobby.  This makes me a bit uneasy.  But bulletproof glass has become so commonplace that we often just walk into our banks, conduct our transactions, say “Have a nice day.” and leave without ever thinking about the silent statement that the separating glass makes.

If you think about it you start to realize that we’re on the wrong side of the glass.  We’re on the gun violence side.  We’re on the unprotected side.  I think this is something like how we live our lives.  We have a choice.  We can live on the “employee side” or we can live on the “lobby side”.

Here’s an example.  On the weekends I hang out with some homeless people in Roosevelt Park in Detroit.  They’re really cool and they have great stories and big needs.  I hang out with them to try to help them, but also because I value my relationships with them.  They’re such interesting people and they have such different perspectives.  It’s refreshing.

By doing this I’m making a choice.  I’m living on the “lobby side” of the glass.  The park is not a very safe place and I hear stories of stabbings and fights when I’m there.  But there’s something real about the “lobby side”.  There’s something authentic and true about it.  Sure, I could live on the “employee side” and spend my Sunday afternoons at home watching a movie or going to Applebee’s with my Abercrombie friends or something, but it wouldn’t be the same.  I’d be missing out on helping these awesome people… and therein lies the problem.  It’s hard to cross the barrier.

The bank employees can’t normally assist people on the “lobby side” of the glass.  They have this fear of the risk and so they stay on their side.  What happens if a customer falls ill with a heart attack in the lobby?  Do the employees cross the barrier and help him?  It’s easy for the other customers to help, because we’re already on the heart attack victims side.  I want to be on the side of the homeless people in Roosevelt park, so I have to accept the risk.

I hope to be a person that always accepts the risk in order to do the right thing.  I don’t always make that choice… in fact, I usually don’t and this Roosevelt Park thing is a new direction for me.  But I’m trying to get better at it.